


harmony and rhythm

by Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan (orphan_account)



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, First Meeting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan
Summary: Persephone and Hades meet for the first time in her mother's garden.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	harmony and rhythm

If someone were to ask Persephone what her favorite place in the world is, she would answer here: her mother’s garden. Its abundant flowers, vibrant colors, and rich smells make it practically Olympus on Earth, which could perhaps explain why Persephone spends more time there than actual Olympus--a choice her father enjoys berating her for.

As a child, Persephone would run about the garden barefoot, picking and growing flowers as she pleased, no limits to her exploration besides the sky above and the earth below. She was a wild child; always underfoot, as her mother would say, and more often in trouble than not. Now that she’s older--and as she hopes, wiser--Persephone takes pleasure in simply walking around the garden, reveling in the peace and quiet.

Said peace and quiet is abruptly broken by a loud  _ thump _ and a muttered “ow,” so low it barely reaches Persephone’s ears. She takes off towards the source of the noise, equal parts curious and worried.

The sight Persephone is greeted with upon arriving at her intended location is not one which she was expecting, Lying on the ground in front of a tall oak tree--one that Persephone remembers climbing whenever she could slip away from her mother’s watchful eye--is another god. He’s lying facedown, soil and leaves covering his black and white striped suit. A few broken branches lie scattered around him. He’s so still that, if Persephone didn’t know how impossible it is for gods to die, she might have thought him dead.

“Hello,” Persephone says. She crouches down, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder and shaking him none too gently.

“What--” he jolts up, backing away from Persephone and directly into the tree trunk. “What happened?”

“You seem to have fallen out of a tree,” Persephone says, absentmindedly extracting herself of a dandelion which has wound its way around her wrist. “What you were doing up there, I can’t say.”

The man mutters something that Persephone can’t quite hear. She stands up, offering him a hand. He takes it, maneuvering himself to a standing position. She spends only a second marvelling at the strange thrill that runs through her at the contact. “I’m Persephone,” she says, once he has pulled away.

“Hades,” he replies. Persephone immediately recognizes the name--it would be hard for her not to, what with the sheer number of times she's heard it thrown around on Olympus, usually attached to an insult or three.

"What's the king of the Underworld doing falling out of trees in my mom's garden?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"I do come up top occasionally." Hades snaps his fingers, the remnants of his fall disappearing from his suit. "I like to see if there's anything worth the trip."

"And?" Persephone asks.

"And," Hades parrots.

Persephone rolls her eyes, but she is unable to conceal the smile playing across her lips. "Have you found something yet?"

"I think I have," Hades says. He gives Persephone a look that makes her cheeks heat up and something flutter in her chest. At her feet, a few wildflowers start to bloom.

"Walk with me?" Hades asks, after the lapse of a few seconds. He offers Persephone his arm and she links her own through it, feeling a palpable shock originating from the point of contact run through her.

They walk, taking a leisurely pace that is a bit slower than Persephone’s usual speed but comfortable nonetheless. She looks over at Hades, attempting to formulate her thoughts into words--something that has never been particularly hard for her before now. Finally, she manages to settle on, “So, are all the things I’ve heard about you true?”

“Depends what they are.” Hades quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh you know.” Persephone stops walking; Hades follows suit. “You’re tough.” She slips her arm out of his and turns so that she’s fully facing him. “Cruel.” Persephone takes a step forward--now they’re breathing the same air. “Heartless.” She points a finger at him, an inch away from his chest.

“Rumors,” Hades says, grabbing Persephone’s pointing hand--with a loose enough grip that she could pull out of it, if she desired--uncurling her fingers, and resting it over his chest, “Are funny things.”

“Are they?” Persephone asks. It comes out a little too high, a little too shaky.

“Feel for yourself whether I have a heart.” Hades inclines his head, waiting.

Persephone concentrates on her hand, fingers splayed out against the stripes of Hades’ suit. Under her palm, she can feel the steady  _ ba-bum  _ of a heartbeat. Strong and slow--like the beat of a song Persephone can't quite remember. She keeps her hand there for a long second before removing it, taking a few, almost unconscious, steps backwards.

Without rhyme or reason, one of her mother's old warnings resurfaces in her thoughts.  _ Be careful who you give your heart to _ , Persephone's mom had told her once, as they were sitting in this very garden, weaving elaborate flower crowns together,  _ You may never get it back _ . At the time, Persephone hadn't understood the statement. But now, now she thinks she might get it.

"Are you okay?" Hades asks, concern furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah." Persephone waves his question off. "Just," she casts around for something to say, voicing the first coherent thought that comes to mind, "What's the Underworld like?"

Hades takes so long in replying that Persephone wonders if she’d misspoken. But before she can formulate an apology, he answers with, “Almost the opposite of here, really. It’s cold and dark. The sun doesn’t care to shine down there.”

Persephone shivers, picturing it in her mind. “Sounds lonely,” she says. She wonders if any flowers would be able to grow there.

“It is.” Hades sighs. “But,” he draws out the word, “I think that I’ll be able to build something that will last. With help.”

“With help?” Persephone echoes. Hades meets her eyes, daring her to do something--what that something is she doesn’t know, but she does know she wants to take him up on it.

“Persephone,” Hades says--and she loves the way her name sounds in his voice, how he takes each syllable and winds them into something new and exciting. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” she asks.

Hades opens and closes his mouth several times, but not a sound comes out. It’s strange, Persephone thinks. He doesn’t seem like the type to be lost for words.

“It’s alright,” she says, laying a hand on his arm, “You can tell me later.”

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. What happens next is something Persephone thinks she will never forget. Instead of launching into a speech like Persephone expects, Hades opens his mouth and starts to sing.

The song has no words, but it doesn’t need them; the melody speaks for itself. It’s beautiful, is the only way Persephone can think to describe it. The type of song where a person bares their soul more and more with every successive note. Around them, flowers bloom and grow and twist wildly in all manner of colors, reacting to her emotions or to the music or both. And Persephone thinks it would be fine if she never got her heart back, if she could only swap it for Hades’.

“Do you understand?” Hades asks when he’s done singing. And there’s a slight tremble to the words, as if he’s afraid Persephone will say no--as if Persephone  _ could  _ say no.

“I do,” she says, grabbing Hades’ hand and squeezing once. It sounds like a promise; like a vow. “I do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bishop Myriel Fundraiser on tumblr


End file.
